Daylight struggled to pour through the curtains of 221B Baker Street, promptly
Resigning to its fate as the impenetrable cloth refused to so much as to flinch.
Yawning, Sherlock looked up at John, whose shoulder must've be as numb as a shoe,
Still, no complaints were heard, only a morning kiss as John opened his eyes,
Aware of the fact that Sherlock had once again been observing him in his sleep.
"May I say, dear John, that is an impressive greeting for such an early hour," Sherlock muttered,
Lowering his hand under the covers to wards the stiff morning erection John had produced.
"Impressive indeed. Cause for a further investigation, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock smirked.
Squinting through his eyelids, John spread his legs apart further, sighing, and swallowing down the
Exceptional feel of Sherlock's long fingers curving around his cock, sliding his hand up, until,
The foreskin covered the glans, at which point Sherlock ducked under the blanket with a silent murmur.
Eager, John panted , seeking Sherlock's head, irritated by the damn covers separating them, raised,
Tossing it off to wherever.
A sight, indeed, only for John, to watch Sherlock inhale him deep into his throat, humming as he went.
Biting his lip,, John prayed all known deities he'd not come yet. It was too good to let go… Too good.
Knowing twist of a wrist, and John couldn't hold back longer, spilling himself into Sherlock's mouth,
Illuminated by the red hot heat of lust.
Sprawling on the bed, spent, John invited Sherlock to him, looking as if a god before him, eyes wide.
Luscious, in Sherlock's mind. Edible, to an extent. Delicious in more ways than one. His John.
Eliciting a small moan, Sherlock closed his lips over John's, sharing the taste of him like ambrosia.
The kiss lasted, lasted in beautitude, until Sherlock's hips nudged demandingly against John's…